


The Passing of the Guard ( ... but what if said Guard hasn't actually passed?)

by salable_mystic



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Barrayaran politics, Found Family, Gen, Sergyar, Smart people, post-prime ministership, post-regency, pre-viceroyship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/pseuds/salable_mystic
Summary: “On Barrayar, guardianship of the Imperium isn’t transferred between living people, it is inherited from the dead.”
Relationships: Gregor Vorbarra & Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	The Passing of the Guard ( ... but what if said Guard hasn't actually passed?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fawatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/gifts).



-&-

When Cordelia entered his private study, she found the Emperor pacing the length of the room behind his desk, from the bookshelves on the right hand side of the room, along the wall of windows that overlooked the snow-covered royal palace gardens, to the interactive galactic map on the left wall, and back again. His hands were clasped behind his back and his brow was furrowed in thought. From his still impeccably arranged clothing and neatly styled hair one would not be able to tell that this was probably what he had been doing for the last half hour or so, but Cordelia knew the Emperor – and what is more, she knew the boy that this man had grown into, the boy whom Aral and her had safeguarded the Imperium for, and in whose parents’ stead they had stood – and so she was all but certain that he had been at this for quite some time.

The door had been left standing open – which served as an indicator to his inferiors that the Emperor was at liberty to be disturbed, if not actually _at liberty_ (and, well, disturbed by people who made it into the palace and past all the security checkpoints) – and as Gregor had not heard her come in, the Countess paused and observed him for a little while longer, so that she might gage his mood better, see how troubling his thoughts were.

It took him two more round trips between the bookshelves and the map before he noticed her – so it had to be quite a dicey problem indeed, for that much inattention to his surroundings was quite unusual for the Emperor, given the still sometimes precarious position he occupied – serving the Barrayaran Empire in any higher-ranked capacity came with its inevitable add-on of hyperaware paranoia, in the Countess’ Betan opinion. (Or, well, maybe he just trusted his adoptive-mother-in-all-but-name to such a degree, that she never registered as a potential threat ever, a small, possessive part of Cordelia thought).

Once he noticed her, Emperor Gregor Vorbarra stopped in his pacing and waved her inside.

“Ah, good morning, Cordelia. Thank you for making the time.”

“Of course!” the Countess replied, and walked into the room. She did not add that one always made time for one’s Emperor – from Gregor’s informal greeting, it was clear that he wanted to speak to her in a private, rather than an official capacity. “Always lovely to see you – I don’t get to do so as often as I’d like, these days.”

He smiled ruefully, winced a little and sighed. “That feeling is entirely mutual. All this –” an expansive gesture to encompass the whole room, and everything that lay beyond it. “– tends to keep me quite, quite busy.”

The Countess chuckled and perched on the corner of the Imperial desk – gently, for it was piled high with neat stacks of communiques and data disks, but still with an implied disdain for official paraphernalia that, when he or Aral let it slide, always delighted her a little. “As well I know. Running this Imperium of yours tends to keep one both very busy and mostly in Vorbarr Sultana, as I can attest from having been a bystander to it for a couple of decades, now. And Aral and I haven’t been in Vorbarr Sultana much, recently, seeing as we’ve been spending most of our time in the district.”

The Emperor smiled fondly at her, “You’re surely selling yourself short, there – you’ve been far more than a bystander. How is Aral?”

The Countess shrugged. “Oh, you know Aral. Getting a little restless with all this enforced relaxation and recuperation. Chafing for a project while also trying his best to take it slow, stay away from politics, and to not interfere, but then politics and politicians come looking for him and his opinion anyway… . The usual.”

The Emperor winced. “Yes, I’ve been hearing from some of the Counts and Ministers that they’re finding the former Regent and Prime Minister to be frustratingly elusive when it comes to policy debates, and that they’ve taken to calling at Vorkosigan Surleau to get his input on matters of state.”

Cordelia smiled at him, “He’s trying to stay out of your way. Me, too.”

Gregor nodded, “I know.” He sighed. “And I appreciate it, I do – I know that it cannot be easy, neither for Aral nor for you, to step back, after having helped shape the Imperium for so long.” He sighed again, and shook his head, “but it’s causing its own set of problems.”

Cordelia shrugged. “Of course it is. It looks like there’s a rift between the Emperor and his former Regent.”

Gregor nodded, again. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

“Indeed,” Cordelia mustered him thoughtfully, “But, surely, you must have a potential solution that you want my opinion on, to have asked me to come see you. So, what do you want to do about the issue?”

He shrugged, “Can I not just have wanted to see you?”

The Countess remained silent, waiting him out.

The younger man shook his head and sighed. “But, no, you’re right. As to what I want to do about it?” he shrugged again, “As Gregor Vorbarra, nothing. I want to ignore it all and ask you to spend more time in Vorbarr Sultana, because I miss having dinner together with Aral and you. As Emperor … I think I have a solution, but I don’t know if I like it or if you will like it.”

Cordelia nodded and smirked at him, “Let me assure you, we like it. But, I must say, it will certainly will preclude having dinner regularly, so that’s a negative. Politically it’s quite brilliant, though, and I’m certain that it will suit Aral and me well.”

Gregor shook his head. “You know, I am not even surprised that you start discussing the pros and cons without me even having mentioned what the proposition that I want to float even _is_.” He smiled, bemused, and crossed his arms, “So, Countess Vorkosigan: tell me what you think it is that I am thinking, then.”

The Countess pushed herself off of the table and stepped into the Emperor’s personal space, close enough that she could press a kiss to his cheek. Then she leaned back far enough that she could meet his gaze, and lifted her hands to warmly clasp the shoulders of the young and brilliant man that she had helped raise and whom she loved so very dearly.

“Sergyar,” the Countess stated, “Your answer, my dear boy, is Sergyar. Isn’t it? Aral and I have also been discussing the viability of an ambassadorship somewhere, but that seemed historically a little dicey to both of us, so,” she shrugged. “Is it Sergyar?”

He laughed ruefully. “How did you know?”

Cordelia shrugged. “Aral and I have been involved in both your public and private life for a long time, Gregor, as you have been in ours, and we’ve all had intimate experience with how delicate the balance of power in the Imperium is. Walking a tightrope, trying to placate a leashed tiger, …” she gestured to encompass the room, and the planet and empire beyond, “use whatever metaphor you will, it’s obvious that Barrayarans simply aren’t used to a transition of imperial power that doesn’t involve the transition of said power due to the death of the former Emperor or Regent. Appointing Aral as your Prime Minister helped stave off that problem rather brilliantly, but now that that is no longer the case …,” the Countess shrugged again. “On Barrayar, guardianship of the Imperium isn’t transferred between living people, it is inherited from the dead.”

Gregor nodded, “Emperors don’t retire.”

Cordelia nodded, too. “And, historically, regents tend not to long survive the ascension to the throne of their former wards.” The Countess noted Gregor’s frown, and made a throwaway gesture, “Yes, yes, in large part because they proved unwilling to let go of the Imperium and to relinquish their power, granted, but the why doesn’t matter, right now … what matters is that the Imperium and its subjects have almost no precedent for such a willing transfer of power between living persons, and thus the political system simply isn’t built to account for the sheer political vortex that is encompassed in one single individual who is both the former Lord Regent and the former Prime Minister; and individual who, for health reasons, can no longer fulfil said role of Prime Minister, but who is nevertheless of sound mind and far too young to retire and fade into the woodwork, much as he has been trying … you need us out of the way, if you want to be seen as standing on your own feet, and if you want to give Prime Minister Racozy a fighting chance to be seen as standing on _his_ own two feet. So …” – she shrugged again – “You are trying to find a role that Aral and I fit in, in the grand scheme of Barrayaran politics, that will suit his experience, take into account his considerable political and military influence, the sheer weight of his personality and personal history with the Imperium, and make use of the not inconsiderable clout and influence of who Aral and I stand for as a couple, while also taking the personal happiness of your former Regent and his wife into account. Luckily for you, you have a planet that your Imperium has newly colonized, far enough away from Barrayar to make an involvement in the daily politics of the Imperium unfeasible. A colony that is also in need of competent management and prudent leadership, and that is, by all accounts, an interesting and not unpleasant place to live. You are a good man and a smart Emperor, Gregor. Of course it was going to be Sergyar.”

Gregor laughed ruefully, “I’ll consider the fact that we have arrived at the same conclusion a compliment to my deductive skills, rather than as a worrying indicator that I might be becoming too predictable.”

“It is only because we’ve know you since you were five years old.”

Gregor sighed and shook his head, “Given that we’ve independently come to this conclusion – which I still, personally, heartily detest – just how far ahead of the logistics are you on me, on this? Did Aral accompany you to Vorbarr Sultana? Or is he still in Vorkosigan Surleau?”

Cordelia laughed. “He’s waiting in your antechamber, actually – we thought it best if he wait outside, given that you had asked to see only me.” She shrugged, “there was, after all, a chance that you wanted to discuss something entirely different, after all. So the worst that could have happened is that Aral spent some time drinking your quite delicious coffee and answering his communiques in your antechamber, while waiting for me … but in case you did indeed want to discuss our political and private futures, him being on hand seemed like a smart idea.”

Gregor nodded, resignedly, and then shook his head as he stepped towards the door, “Let’s call him in, then – much as I truly shall hate sending you both so far away …” the Emperor of Barrayar squared his shoulders, “… the Viceroyship of Sergyar awaits you both, and we have a lot of things to discuss.”

-&-


End file.
